How It Works
by the ramblin rose
Summary: Caryl AU. Oneshot. People who were new to town just had to learn how things worked. Time was all that would teach them that. Carol/Daryl Rated for language.


**AN: Here we go. This one took a little while because it was the Tumblr prompt that wanted Caryl acting like they hated each other. It took me a bit to figure out how I wanted to do that. I will go ahead and throw in there that I could've done a lot of research for this, but I didn't. I ask for some suspension of disbelief for this little "scene".**

 **I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!**

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"I'm tellin' you, an absolute bitch," Daryl said. He swung his legs, stretching his knees, as he ambled around the property with a foot and a half distance between himself and the man that he was talking to about the work that needed to be done.

"Really?" Axel asked, a touch of disbelief in his voice.

Daryl picked up on it. He didn't have him convinced yet. Axel wasn't sold. And if he wasn't sold? He wasn't going to agree to half the work that Daryl was trying to sell him. The house wasn't in bad shape, not really, but it wasn't in the best shape. Some of the things that Daryl was suggesting, honestly, could go undone for years before they caused any problems. There wasn't any guarantee, though, that Axel would call Daryl in four or five years for the job. Right now? He was already here.

"Really," Daryl assured him. "Hell—she's such a damn bitch? I've seen her raise hell over shit that wasn't even a problem just because..."

Daryl paused.

"Because her damn tampon string was knotted up or something," he added.

Axel looked properly concerned for the moment.

The woman they were discussing, Carol, had recently handed Daryl her list of "problems" that needed to be solved in the house before final inspection. Her list, interestingly enough, was almost an exact match to the list that Daryl had come up with. Of all the years that they'd crossed paths on the jobs, it almost always turned out that way.

And he could assure Axel that the house would never pass inspection if the things that caught her attention weren't dealt with in a satisfactory manner.

"Why—why wouldn't they just send someone else out?" Axel asked, glancing over his shoulder to where the woman was still walking around, examining the property, a stern expression on her face.

She was attractive, but the scowl that she wore while working didn't help her face that much. She knew it, though, and the scowl was part of her defense against anyone who might think that she could be manipulated in any way. This woman? Carol? She couldn't be manipulated. She would bust balls if that's what needed to be done.

Daryl followed Axel's glance and chewed at his lip.

"Small town," Daryl said. "Hell—I've been here all my life. Population's so damn small—shrinks every day—that there ain't hardly more than one person to fill in any job that needs done around here. She's about the only one."

Axel stopped walking a moment, circles being made around the property, and Daryl stopped with him. Carol could probably hear them, if she strained her ears, from where she was, but Daryl didn't care. She knew the truth about herself already. She knew what was said about her. It wasn't going to be any surprised to her. She was proud of her reputation.

"That sucks for you, don't it?" Axel said. "You have to deal with her a good deal?"

Daryl hummed and nodded.

"Damn near every day," Daryl confirmed. "That's why the hell I can tell you what I know about her. She'll turn shit down just to see the damn look on your face. I'm tellin' you—if she says it's gotta be done? And you don't do it? Sees it as a personal challenge."

Axel winced and looked at the papers in his hand a moment, chewing over the figures there before he glanced back at Daryl. He laughed, but it was a nervous laugh.

"One of those things—woman on a power trip?" Axel asked.

Daryl echoed the man's laugh, but for a different reason, and he nodded.

"Always has been," Daryl confirmed. "Long as I've known her, at least. I'm tellin' you. You ain't met a ball buster like her ass."

Axel looked back toward the woman and then returned his glance to Daryl. Daryl glanced at her too, but not with the same expression that Axel wore. Daryl had seen her before. He was more than accustomed to her face—current scowl and all.

"She don't look like that kinda woman, ya know?" Axel said. "Like—the kind is usually so big on their power. Small, dainty..."

"Worst kind," Daryl said. "Sometimes? Women like that? They had times in they life that they didn't have no power. So they get it? They ain't lettin' go of it for shit. Hold onto it with everything they got."

Daryl knew that much was true about Carol. She'd been in a place, once, where she was stripped of the power to do and decide anything. She had hardly even had dominion over her own body. It had been a long time, though, since that was the case for her. He knew that too. But Axel? He was just new to town. He didn't need to know everything at once.

He'd find out a lot more later. After the deal was done and he was settled in his new, old, little home.

Axel smirked at her.

"Single?" Axel asked. "Could be her problem—and she ain't bad to look at if you could talk that sour off her face."

Daryl glanced back at her.

"From what I know," Daryl said, "that ain't her problem."

Axel hummed and looked back at the piece of paper in his hand. He made an expression at it and Daryl understood. Buying the house? It wasn't that big of a commitment. These houses? The ones out on the edge of town? They came with a great price tag. That's what drew people. They were cheap because they weren't big and they weren't in the greatest condition.

That's where people were "had" the most. They settled on the idea of the house—nice enough—and they settled on the idea of the town—small and sleepy and quiet—and then they realized that the house they were buying needed a decent amount of work to keep from falling down around them within the next couple of years.

They all made the same face after Carol had paid her visit and given her list of demands over to the "handyman" that usually came out to offer services on any house that anyone was looking at. It usually happened to be Daryl and Merle because they had the best reputations in town. Still, even though they all made those faces, they usually ended up going through with it. They'd already had time to fall in love with the idea of the place, and that made the pain on their pocketbooks seem worth it.

"You don't think there's no kinda wiggle room on this?" Axel asked. "None of it? It's just—most of it I could do, but—it's a helluva lot of stuff and I ain't got checks coming in yet. You know? Got all the stuff from the move. Got bills to square away. I just ain't got this right now—but I gotta get settled before I can get the money I need to pay the stuff..."

Daryl pretended to look back over his stack of papers, the ones that he'd been rubbing with his fingers enough as he walked that the edges were already softening.

He sucked his teeth.

"I don't know..." he mused.

He glance back toward Carol who was theoretically finalizing her look over the house. She'd be leaving in a couple of minutes and it would be the last that Axel would see of her until she came for a final inspection.

Daryl looked back at Axel and hummed.

"Tell you what," Daryl said. "We'll go over there—we'll talk to her. I know her. Known her a long damn time. Now—she don't shit that I tell her to do. Ain't gonna do shit she don't wanna do. But—if you and me sign some papers? Figure out what the hell's gotta be done now and what we can do...little bit along? She might—just might—let it slide seein' the contract."

Axel's eyes lit up. He nodded his head almost wildly in agreement.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah. If you think she'll go for that? I can do it. Six months I could have it all done—take care of what's gotta be done right away and do the rest later? Got a couple things in there I'd like to see about having done anyway—you know? See if you know anybody can do it if you can't do it yourself?"

Daryl hummed.

He knew someone in this town that could do _everything_. He hadn't lied. It was a small enough town that there was just about one specialist for everything you wanted done. And, it just so happened, that Daryl knew every one of those specialists. They all had, in fact, their own little network of "recommendations" that worked to sort of cement the fact that there weren't people who moved in and took over the role of being the only one who held any one position.

But Axel didn't need to know that.

There'd be plenty of time, once he was settled into the town, for him to find out how things like that worked around there.

"We'll talk to her—see if we can't get her to reign in her damn attitude just this one time—and see what we can get squared away," Daryl said. "Just—don't expect too much. I'm warning you—this one? She can be a first class bitch."

Axel nodded.

"I've known a few, myself," Axel said. "But—every little bit helps, right?"

Daryl chuckled to himself.

"Yeah," he said. "Around here? That's damn near the motto. Every little bit helps."

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Daryl veered his truck off the road and toward the diner. A cup of coffee. That's what time it was now. Time for a cup of coffee as he thought over the contracts that he'd just signed and how much work that was going to bring in. It was good work, too. Steady work for a bit. Enough for him and Merle both to benefit from.

Axel was pleased as punch, too, about his soon to be new home.

Axel was bringing, to the place, some good mechanical knowledge. He'd go to work—with any luck he said, but Daryl had a hunch—with Scooter. It was a good thing. Scooter was getting old. He needed to retire out. He'd keep owning the shop, drawing some money off it to work as a retirement, while he shaped Axel to take the whole thing over for him.

There was, after all, only one shop.

And there was only one diner.

Daryl smiled to himself, seeing her vehicle parked there. He knew, by now, that she'd be there. Drinking coffee and looking over papers.

He stepped into the café, spoke to Warren at the bar and Joanne the waitress as she waved and signaled with her hand down toward the tables—as if he didn't know which was his at this point—and then Daryl made his way to the table he always sat at.

He'd barely had time to slide into the booth before Joanne sat his coffee down in front of him and touched his shoulder affectionately.

"Good day so far?" She asked.

He smiled and nodded.

"You know it, JoJo," Daryl said.

"Picked up a new job?" Joanne asked with a smile.

"Thanks to that bitch? Picked up a better one than I planned," Daryl confirmed. Joanne's smile broadened. She knew exactly who he was talking about. Everyone knew he was talking about.

Anyone who had lived there for some time, after all, knew exactly how things worked.

"Good guy?" Joanne asked.

Daryl hummed and nodded.

"He'll fit in just fine, I think," Daryl said. "Just fine—with some time."

"Learn the ropes?" Joanne teased.

Daryl hummed his agreement.

Joanne took her leave of him then, confirming that she'd be back later to see if he wanted lunch or if he was going to pass today, and Daryl picked up the menu to look at it while he considered whether or not he wanted anything.

He glanced over the top of it when he heard the sound of Carol clearing her throat. He smiled at her, sitting across from him in the booth, her face on her hand.

"My tampon string was knotted up?" Carol asked with a smirk on her face.

"Nice touch, right?" Daryl asked.

"You're an asshole, Daryl Dixon," Carol said, fake indignation in her voice.

Daryl smiled to himself. No one, at least not anyone new to town, was ever any the wiser to the trick until they'd been there some time. First they had to learn how things worked. Enough time in town would tell them that Carol had never taken Daryl's name because, after leaving her tyrannical ex-husband and reclaiming her maiden name, she'd kept the name as something of a reminder that she could, if she wanted to, be entirely independent.

It was her reminder to Daryl, too, that she didn't need him. She was just fine being on her own. She'd take his love—but she wouldn't take his name. She didn't want him to be her lord and liege or her possessor. Daryl didn't need the reminder. And he loved that she had confidence in herself—she hadn't had it when he'd first met her.

She really was a bitch, but he loved her for it. And most people around there? They knew that's just how it worked.

Daryl snorted at her common use of the term "asshole" as an endearing term for him.

"Yeah, well," he said, glancing back at the menu in his hands. "You knew that shit when you married me."


End file.
